


Longest Night

by Semjaza



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 2D/4N, 4D/4N, Alternate Universe - Bloodborne Fusion, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Devil May Cry 4 Dante/Nero, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Post-Devil May Cry 4, bloodborne au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semjaza/pseuds/Semjaza
Summary: Nero gets attacked by a monstrous, eldritch demon and ends up in Yharnam... where a strange Dante lives, hunting beasts.Established 4D/4N, developing 2D/4N, the Bloodborne AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Longest Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely liberal take on Bloodborne lore. Most other DMC characters have cameo appearances. Steangine got me thinking about Bloodborne AUs again with her fic Blood of the Covenant, and BlackenedThorne got me thinking about 2D’s personality with their fic The Stars Against Us.

He couldn’t see the demon, but he could sense its monstrous presence. His arm sparked with light, reacting strongly, the burning, tingling sensation arching up into his shoulder. Nero ducked low and sprinted, dodging the crumbling headstones of the Soldier’s Graveyard, hearing the loud cracking noises as they shattered behind him. His boots crunched the dry grass as he ran, leaving a trail through the dead vegetation. The night air was cold, Fortuna’s seasons still not quite right, and Nero could see his breath around him. There wasn’t enough space to fight something of this size here, and his gaze drifted to the roofline, wondering if he could climb up high enough to catch a ledge and pull himself up further.

Dante thought he was stupid for coming back here. He’d made his opinions clear as Nero walked out the door. Nero hadn’t had a response, either. He didn’t think Dante was entirely wrong – Fortuna had never been kind to him, even after he’d saved the city. But Fortuna was his home, and he’d invested a lot of time into _not_ letting demons destroy it, so it would be stupid to allow them to finish the job now. Even if it wasn’t technically his problem anymore, killing demons was his duty, and he’d thought even Dante wouldn’t argue with _that._

But he’d thought wrong, apparently, because when the job came in Dante had refused it without even telling Nero about it. He passed it back to Morrison to farm out without so much as a word. Unfortunately, Lady was the next person on Morrison’s call list, and she stopped by the office to ask about the contract. To Nero’s further misfortune and extreme embarrassment, he’d had at least seven inches of Dante’s cock inside him when she kicked open the door.

That had been the start of the nightmare, and things had only gone downhill from there. Nero still blushed red to remember it: Dante’s fingers digging into his hips and holding him in place on his lap, Lady on a mission for information that wouldn’t be thwarted just because Dante was busy fucking him, the fact that they’d carried on a conversation about a demon in Fortuna as though Nero wasn’t even there, let alone breathless and mortified and naked in front of both of them. It was enough to make his blood boil. The second that Lady closed the door behind her, and Dante began rocking his hips to continue _having_ Nero, Nero triggered and tossed Dante across the room. At that point, he’d been unable to even articulate what he was most pissed off about.

The fight had been a bad one, and Nero had never been more thankful that the shutters on the office’s windows were closed. Any potential client witnessing this debacle would have been scarred for life, at best. Nero lunged after Dante without bothering to dress first, and managed to land some hits because Dante still had his pants half down - he floundered for the second it took Nero to reach him. Despite being utterly ridiculous, the fight started vicious and stayed that way. He’d ended up with some bruises, even if Dante was mostly not fighting back. Physically, at least. Dante hadn’t hesitated to share his opinion of Fortuna and its people with Nero, forgetting, for a moment, that Nero was from Fortuna too, that Nero had family who had died there.

Nero knew, with the clarity of hindsight, that Dante had a point. He owed absolutely nothing to Fortuna. If anything, Fortuna should have given him a medal and an apology, all while groveling for his mercy. When Dante said that he deserved better, he wasn’t blaming Nero for not finding something better earlier, or for wanting the approval of a town that wouldn’t give it. But, Nero hadn’t realized that until later that evening, after he’d slammed the door of the Devil May Cry office and jogged the twenty blocks to the train station. He’d had plenty of time to stew on it while on the train and then the ferry, the gentle rocking motion reminding him of his last sexual fiasco with Dante, leaving him half-hard and frustrated. He wished that he’d at least tried to fix _that_ part of their relationship before leaving. Repair the benefits, if not the friendship.

Nero caught himself thinking about Dante and swore under his breath. That man was going to get him killed, or worse, captured by a demon he’d need rescuing from. Both terrible options, Nero decided, and bounded up the wall. He could feel the demon following him still, an immense, noxious presence. He skipped up the heavy stonework, caught a windowsill, and launched himself up onto the roof of Fortuna Castle. It was steep and treacherous, but the wide expanse provided ample room to slaughter any demon, no matter how large.

The moon, huge and bloated, slid out from behind a cloud, bathing the roof with reflected light. The presence flickered, and Nero’s devilbringer matched it. He could make out an outline, just barely, of something massive, and tentacled. He knew the information was provided by his demonic senses, rather than his eyesight. His vision couldn’t quite comprehend the demon - his gaze passed over it without catching.

Nero sparked up the Red Queen, used the roofline to his advantage, and leapt high into the air. He revved the sword, swung it up above his head, and dropped like a meteor onto the demon.

It disappeared, faster than Nero could follow. He pulled the blow, twisting his body to slow his momentum and save the roof. He rolled, hitting his shoulder hard, and sprang back up to his feet, revving the sword again.

Nothing stirred on the rooftop. Nero huffed, his breath visible in the chill night air. His shoulder ached, and he holstered his sword quickly, gripping his upper arm. He pushed the joint back into place with a snap and a wince. At the same time, he pivoted slowly, searching for the demon, waiting for it to reveal itself.

“I don’t have all night,” he called, which was a lie. It wasn’t like he’d ever rushed home to Dante, in the few months they’d lived together, even when they weren’t fighting. Dante understood hunting, the tension of stalking a demon for hours, dragging it out before making a kill. He wouldn’t care if Nero came home late. And ultimately, it wasn’t like Dante was waiting up for him. Even on the good days.

Nero stretched, drawing the Red Queen again. He flexed his talons, eyes on the sky. The night was calm and quiet, almost preternaturally so. He wasn’t expecting birdsong, but he couldn’t even hear an occasional owl call. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. He breathed out quietly, keeping a lid on his frustration. He didn’t want to scare this thing away before he got a chance to rip it to shreds.

Nero paced the roof, balancing on the peaks, jumping from one to another almost lazily. His arm stayed quiet, but the night remained eerily still. His night vision was excellent, better than any human’s, but he couldn’t find any trace of the demon. He extended his other senses, listening intently, waiting for his devilbringer to tingle an alarm. Nothing. He was alone on the rooftop, wasting his time trying to help a town that hated his guts.

“At least they’re paying me this time,” he muttered, flipping a shingle over with the tip of his boot. “But not by the hour.” Nero looked around again, his gaze drifting back towards the actual town. He clamped down on the wistful feeling that filled his chest when he thought of his home, crushed it, and tossed it aside. He tilted his head and listened again, and then he heard it, or thought he did - something very faint, almost imperceptible.

He slung the Red Queen onto his back and headed towards the graveyard, the faint sound drawing him closer. It sounded like someone weeping, almost, from very far away, as though the edge of someone’s hysteria had been carried to him on the breeze. Only, Nero noted, there was no breeze. No demon. Nothing.

Swearing softly, Nero jumped back down among the graves. The few trees that remained were skeletal remnants of their former selves, having never recovered from the unnatural winter of a few months previous. Their branches crackled, brittle, rasping against each other, and that was the only warning Nero had.

He leapt, but not quite fast enough. Something grabbed his leg and yanked upwards, the movement flipping him upside down, his head connecting hard on a gravestone. He was tossed into the air like a ragdoll, unable to stop his momentum. He lashed out ineffectively with his devilbringer, reaching as far as he could. The moon above him turned red, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the blood in his eyes or the start of his trigger.

Nero struck out again and failed to connect, and then something was winding around his chest, tentacle-like, constricting. It tightened as he struggled, with every exhalation, pressing the Red Queen into his back until he wasn’t sure whether the steel or his skin would hold out longer. He was held up in the air, moon and trees and ground and sky all spinning wildly, and he still couldn’t see the demon, not really. Blood dripped down his face and onto the grass below him, the pressure on his chest shorting out his vision. His ribs crunched into his lungs and stopped his breath. He had a horrible sense that he was being observed as a curiosity, the way one might look at a strange new animal before dissecting it.

Nero swallowed the blood in his mouth and unleashed his trigger. The rush of power provided immediate relief from the agony of his broken bones, the same way adrenaline allowed him to ignore pain. But it wasn’t enough. The demon, or whatever had him, refused to let go. Nero could feel its excitement, its eagerness, like it wanted to drink his life. Even with the added strength of his trigger, he couldn’t break loose from the coils surrounding him. His ribs cracked and healed and cracked again. Nero had a full ten seconds of clarity in which to struggle before his trigger collapsed. Power drained from him like he was bleeding out. He gulped what little air he could, hearing blood gurgle in his lungs, his sight going black around the edges.

The world flickered around him, the moonlit graveyard expanding into something else, the dead trees growing and twisting. The courtyard buildings grew taller and leaned inwards, the roofline arching off into the night sky, the stonework darkening as though covered in soot. The demon lifted him higher and the air grew colder, his heart stuttering in his chest. Nero thrashed and shivered, unable to breathe, his throat burning. His vision blurred and darkened until only the hideous blood red moon remained, and then even that was gone.

*

“I’ve never seen a reaction quite like that. Your blood is tainted, certainly, but the fact that you’re alive right now proves your strength. Now, blood ministration can do many things, but it’s not a suitable replacement for exorcism, and you, boy, have a demon inside you.

“Wait, wait, there’s no need for violence. I found you amongst the graves and brought you here to my clinic to help you. I’d never do you any harm, and you agreed to the transfusion. I have your contract, right here...

“Now, isn’t that better? The power of the Healing Church has brought us many blessings, to be sure. Rest now, and don’t fret, the dreams are a part of the process. And when you wake, I’ll send you hunting. This city is full of beasts, filled to the brim, bursting with them. You’ll help us take care of them, won’t you? Like we’ve taken care of you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I write is self-indulgent, but this fic especially, lol. This is just the intro but I appreciate any feedback. :)


End file.
